Qeth

Qeth never liked the cold. She grew used to it, though. Dwelling from the Southern Icefield she really had no other choice. In the land of Ice adapting is the only way of surviving. She was cold and starving and alone. So she adapted by joining a group of raiders. A nameless, starved out and weak kid, that's all she was.
Truth be told, she enjoyed being part of that group. Even if none of the dragons around her showed the slightest interests in her or her well-being, which was the first rule laid before her. Mind yourself, kid. No one will feed you if you're hungry. No one will care if you're sad. No one will catch you if you fall. She never minded that. All she ever wanted was food and warmth, never really cared if the moon was her only companion.
And undeniably she loved raiding. She was the weakest in her group and could not defeat any guards... but she found ones that were weaker than her. At such occasions, she felt strong at last. She gladly spilt blood, never caring who she killed. She was a real deity then; choosing who lives and not.
The tents, of course, wasn't really warm, but at least she wasn't starving anymore. Make no mistake, her belly was hardly ever full at first... the group might have raided as one, but aside from that everyone tended themselves. Tents, fires, coins and nourishment; everyone had what they stole from the weak. And she was weak.
At first.
Years of living and fighting in the land of Ice toughened Qeth. She never was an emotional dragon, nor someone who would refuse to fight, but she wasn't really strong or experienced fighter either. Slowly her muscles grew thanks to the regular meals she had and the constant moving and fighting, and her fighting skill becomes much better. No one taught her; no one cared, but she was really determined and a good observer. Not much time passed and she could easily defeat dragons way bigger than her. Not much time passed and she grew strong and never again went to sleep in the cold with empty stomach.
The group of raiders started looking at her with respect and dared not to stand in her way. She was no longer a lackey allowed to stay around, but a true warrior. That of course chanced nothing on the group's rules, but at least she wasn't called a kid anymore. No, she finally become Qeth, for she always was alone and nobody named her, but herself. Bone, that's what my name shall be, for I only leave the white bones to lay on the cold ice from my enemies.
That was a ruthless life, but the only one she knew. She never dared to wonder that under different circumstances who might she have become. Longing for something else would have made her weak, or so she thought.

That day started like any other. The group woke up and gathered their supply to hide it in a cold ice cave. Everything went well, the stronger dragons (including Qeth for her delight) decided to raid a small village not too far from them. Strength meant a word to say in such decisions, as they had no leader (some tried but in return they were... well, torn apart). Their attacks was uncoordinated and each of them lacked discipline; thanks to that and the fact that everyone cared only about themselves it was not rare that some of the raiders never returned to the hidden supplies. No one cared, at least there were a few extra bits to claim.
Qeth never thought that one day she would be the one who would not return. Those who failed to return were weak, she was strong. But in that village she found her weakness in Suvion. Qeth broke trough a hard wooden door with hunger for blood and supplies and faced Suvion. Neither spoke at first. They both knew what was about to happen and no words could chanced that, most begged for their lives, but the villager seen the hunger in Qeth's eyes and knew her fate.
Qeth snapped her teeth, but the white tundra did not shake. "Won't you beg?" asked the raider, breaking the heavy silence.
"Why would I? You've already made up your mind. I won't give you satisfaction with that," replied the tundra with a calm and sweet voice. Qeth never heard anything so sweet. "I would have a question, if you don't mind, raider," Qeth chuckled for that. Later she told herself that it was because the mere fact that the tundra dared to say such, but in reality she was simply shocked how much hate she put in the word raider, while the rest of her words were warm.
"The dead don't speak."
"I hardly can argue with that, but as you can hear I am still capable of forming words, thus I must be alive. As for my question..."
"Enough! You think it's a game?" shouted Qeth.
"Life is a game, full of laughs and cries," smiled the odd tundra, "so tell me raider, you truly don't know any better?"
For that Qeth hissed, "why should I? I am satisfied with my life."
"Are you, raider? It is never too late to chance. There is a reason why you haven't killed me yet."
Qeth snapped her teeth and angrily moved for the kill as she tossed the tundra on the ground, her sharp teeth around her weak neck. The villager remained calm.
"Weakling," hissed Qeth.
"Strength will never make you strong. All you killed was stronger than you for they never preyed on others. A life that is taken is lost forever. Be better than what you taught to be. It is never too late to chance," she repeated and turned her head towards Qeth's. Their eyes met, Suvion saw anger, but that anger quickly turned to confusion then a single frozen tear. Qeth never seen such beauty as Suvion's eyes.
She had no idea why, but without a second though she rapidly ran out of the cabin, the village, her life. She only stopped when exhaustion finally took over. She collapsed in the middle of a freezing storm. She did not understand what happened... why she ran... why she ran to her own death, but she could not kill that tundra. She killed so many... but never cared.
There always was a thin voice in her head, but that voice was weak and she was strong. She hissed, thinking that the tundra casted some sort of spell on her that weakened her... but it hardly mattered then. She was tired... so... tired.
She shut her eyes.

She was shivering. "You were hard to find, Qeth," a sharp voice sounded in her head. "Luckily Rys knows how to warm one up." No... the voice came from farther. She tied to open her eyes, but failed badly. Then darkness claimed her again.
"You're awake, again. You must take nourishment," sounded that sharpe voice again. She tried to open her eyes, again... hardly, but they obeyed. A pearlcather stood over her. She was wrapped up in dark clothes, but her wings and a little skin around here eyes were uncovered. Red lines were ran on her white skin and scars, her wings here torn in several places as well.
"I fought my battles, so have you," said the stranger. For that Qeth moved her gaze away from her wings.
"Wh..." she tried to speak, but the words were ice on her tongue. And she was shivering.
"Speak not. Here," the stranger held a wooden cup towards her, "drink it up." With doubt she raised her and took the cup. She smelled the liquid before snipping into it. Warm, sweet wine. She never drank so good vine. Rapidly, she consumed all and a moment later the pearlcather filled her cup again.
"Don't drink it so fast, here, have a meal as well," with that she placed a plate before Qeth. Some sort of stew with bread. It was warm and had a great smell. She had no doubt before making all disappear in her stomach along with the wine.
"You can have as much as you want, perhaps you could try enjoying it's taste..."
"Who are you?" she said at last ad she looked at herself. She wasn't in her own clothes, but ones similar to the pearlcather's. Her weapons lain on a table right next to her head.
"They call me Visenya. I lead a group of dragons. With Rys we grabbed you from the ice filed," she beckoned to the tent's entrance where a guardian's huge black paw lain. "She's good with fire. I knew how to find someone and she knows how to deal with the cold."
Qeth dared not to say that she was still shivering, but Visenya must have noticed.
"That, we can't help. It's inside of you. The cold."
"I know..." she said, not really understanding her own words.
"I see more than most. I know you, Qeth. I might be a mere stranger to you, but I know you. I know all you've done and I saw in your eyes who you might become. The choice is yours: go back to raiding or start anew," the pearcather indeed sounded wise. Not really for the words she spoke, but the way she said them: her voice was sharp, yet the words felt warm and somehow ancient.
"Where would I go? I lived my whole life here... and only know fighting."
"Fighters needed everywhere. And you can always learn. You can come with us, you'd be welcomed there... or go back to your tundra."
Qeth hissed. "She's not..."
"As you wish," silenced the pearcather her. The mirror felt the strength in the stranger and decided not to argue, for the first time in her life.
"We arrived to the village not much after you ran. More of my clan is there now, we protected most villagers, but I fear we arrived too late for some," Qeth's eyes widened.
"We did that... they..." something changed inside of her, she could feel it.
"We all have our ghosts, Qeth," said Visenya with sow.
"After all I've done... they would never welcome me there."
"Maybe. But Suvion would. Love is a funny thing. It changes much so rapidly."
"I'm... she's... we... no... just..."
The pearcathet let out a smile. "Why are you trying to fool yourself? The village is west from here. She's there. We will be too for a few more days. Make your decision wisely." With that she turned and jumped over the guardian's huge paw. Soon they both were gone and Qeth was left alone with her memories.
Hours must have passed before she grabbed her weapons and flew towards the village.

It was a gruelling flight. She was shivering still and hardly recovered. Luckily the settlement wasn't far from the tent; if healed she might have made the flight in a few minutes, but in her current state it took over ten.
She didn't glance at the small houses first, but the huge imperials. She never seen one, nor felt so small before. There was several of them, but only one seemed to notice her. His black skin were decorated with bones and teeth. Even the biggest ones dwarfed by his huge size. He spoke not just nodded to himself, as if being satisfied with the sight of the small mirror.
She stared at him a little longer before finally gaining enough bravery to ascend to the hut which's door she broke herself. To her surprise the doors was replaced with a new one. She opened it and walked inside, but there was no to be found there.
"Looking for me, raider?" sounded a sweet voice from behind her. This time there was no hate in the world raider.
"I...uh..."
"I take it as a yes. Care for a tea?"
"I... aren't you mad?"
"You hurt me not. I know what happened after. I visited you, though you have no chance of remembering," she said in her sweet, sweet voice.
"You did?" she asked, not being able to held back her smile.
"Of course, silly," she would have taken that as an insult from anyone else, but not from that tundra.
"I... uh..." she still held weapons in her left arm. Then she dropped them all and grasped the sword's hilt with her right. The blade shivered in the cold, just like her. With blade in her hand she bowed. "Allow me to stay... to stay... with you... please."
In return the tundra playfully laughed and raised Qeth's head with her paws. In the really moment they touched the mirror stopped shivering. "You don't need to bow, silly. I... I would love if you'd stick around. But I can no longer stay here. I'd like to go with Vis and the others. Will you follow?"
"Whenever you go, I will follow," and she meant it.
"So, do you care for a tea?"
Even years later she had no idea how that little tundra, now her mate, managed to have such a great impact on her. But she don't mind it. As finally she's happy. Every time they touch she stops shivering, but whenever they part it returns. But she doesn't mind that either. They are one.